Third Girl. Agatha Christie
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Название: Third Girl
Автор: Agatha Christie
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Ужасы и Мистика
Серия: Poirot
isbn: 9780007422869
isbn:
‘From whose point of view?’
‘Not from the girl’s point of view, I suppose.’
‘The girl who came to see me I am sure would have been highly delighted with him.’
‘Did he look very awful?’
‘He looked very beautiful,’ said Hercule Poirot.
‘Beautiful?’ said Mrs Oliver. ‘I don’t know that I like beautiful young men.’
‘Girls do,’ said Poirot.
‘Yes, you’re quite right. They like beautiful young men. I don’t mean good-looking young men or smart-looking young men or well-dressed or well-washed looking young men. I mean they either like young men looking as though they were just going on in a Restoration comedy, or else very dirty young men looking as though they were just going to take some awful tramp’s job.’
‘It seemed that he also did not know where the girl is now—’
‘Or else he wasn’t admitting it.’
‘Perhaps. He had gone down there. Why? He was actually in the house. He had taken the trouble to walk in without anyone seeing him. Again why? For what reason? Was he looking for the girl? Or was he looking for something else?’
‘You think he was looking for something?’
‘He was looking for something in the girl’s room,’ said Poirot.
‘How do you know? Did you see him there?’
‘No, I only saw him coming down the stairs, but I found a very nice little piece of damp mud in Norma’s room that could have come from his shoe. It is possible that she herself may have asked him to bring her something from that room—there are a lot of possibilities. There is another girl in that house—and a pretty one—He may have come down there to meet her. Yes—many possibilities.’
‘What are you going to do next?’ demanded Mrs Oliver.
‘Nothing,’ said Poirot.
‘That’s very dull,’ said Mrs Oliver disapprovingly.
‘I am going to receive, perhaps, a little information from those I have employed to find it; though it is quite possible that I shall receive nothing at all.’
‘But aren’t you going to do something?’
‘Not till the right moment,’ said Poirot.
‘Well, I shall,’ said Mrs Oliver.
‘Pray, pray be very careful,’ he implored her.
‘What nonsense! What could happen to me?’
‘Where there is murder, anything can happen. I tell that to you. I, Poirot.’
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